His Final Wish
by thesolitaryone
Summary: An unlikely friendship develops after Hermione saves Severus's life in her 6th year. Sometimes you just need someone to lean on. Written between the cracks of JKR's story line. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this about four years ago after the seventh book came out. I don't know why I decided to put it here after all this time... probably because it's one of the fics I a) like and b) actually completed. It's in 3 parts, and I'll upload the rest when I've edited them (my 17 year old brain sucked at proof-reading).

DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters.

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><p>His Final Wish<p>

PART 1

She stood atop the towering cliff at sunset, a jar clutched to her chest. She could see everything from here; the grassy hills which plagued the land, meeting the ocean just within her sight on the distant horizon. It was once her sanctuary; her escape from reality with the one man she loved up until the moment he was torn from her so viciously. Never again would she sit atop nature's hidden wonder with him, watching the clouds roll by in his arms, occasionally accompanied by a textbook to quell their bibliophilic needs while taking in the breathtaking beauty. Never again…

She let out a sharp cry as she opened the heavy glass jar and flung the ashes into the air. She watched them slowly float down to earth serenely, as if wanting to take in every inch of the statuesque sunset before they hit the ground. She sat, alone, against a tree to watch the final rays of light fall behind the calm ocean and thought back to where it all began.

She was late, oh _god_ she was late. She had never been late for a class in her entire _life_ and she just so happened to stumble in on the worst class imaginable to be ten minutes tardy: Defence Against the Dark Arts. She flung open the dungeon door: hair unruly; robes hastily thrown on backwards and her entire book bag missing. Cursing herself, she uttered a quick "Sorry" and left the room again, ignoring the looks of complete stupefaction upon her Professor's face. Why, _why_ did her alarm clock have to not wake her today! She raced back to Gryffindor Tower and found her book bag thrown under her bed in haste. She grabbed it and fixed her appearance in the mirror, though not lingering for long.

She threw open the door of her DADA class once again, now twenty minutes late. The entire class fell into a deafening silence, all turning to face her. She ignored these, however found her gaze resting upon Professor Snape's face. He was _livid_. No, livid didn't even come close to that; spots of red apoplexy now spattered his cheeks. She would not have been surprised to see flames protruding from his nostrils.

'Sir, I am so-'

'Do not even start you insubordinate waste of my _time_. You have wasted twenty minutes due to your pure lack of the value of punctuality.' He spat, glaring at her with hatred she felt was totally overreacted. 'You will repay your tardiness _tenfold_, starting with detention here tonight at seven-thirty. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Now,' he said venomously, 'take your seat.' Taking care not to make eye contact with anyone, she complied, making a beeline for her desk next to Harry. _Great_, she thought, _now I'm going to be behind on my homework too_.

So, just before half past seven, she found herself standing outside her Defence classroom. Somehow gathering the courage, she knocked and entered, finding him sitting at his desk, head hunched over a pile of what seemed to be essays.

Without looking at her, he said, 'You will serve your detention for 3 hours and 20 minutes, exactly tenfold the time you wasted earlier today.' He waved his hand towards the desk directly in front of him, indicating the parchment and quill. _Lines_, she thought, _he's making me write lines?_ She hesitated before making her way to the desk.

'Is there a problem?' He asked, now looking at her.

'Uh… no, of course not,' she mumbled and swiftly made for the desk. Lines, though very boring, was perhaps the easiest detention one could serve, excluding of course, the detentions held with Umbridge. Thankful for the ink bottle resting patiently next to the quill, she focussed her attention on the parchment. On top, as if it were a heading, bore the words "_I will not waste Professor Snape's time_" in his spiky, creepily neat handwriting. She immediately started copying the sentence out over and over again, the phrase seemingly burned into her brain.

She had written the phrase at least 300 times before she looked at the clock: 8:30. She let out an involuntary sigh, clapping her hands over her mouth as if trying to suck back the breath she let out. He snickered.

'Never done lines before, have you Miss Granger?'

She ignored him and got back to it, writing "_I will not waste Professor Snape's time_" far beyond the point when her hand had begun to cramp up. Just after 9:30, she was interrupted by a sharp hiss from her professor. He had clasped his hand around his forearm where she knew the mark rested. She jumped back in shock, which seemed to have reminded him of her presence.

'You are dismissed,' He spat through gritted teeth. She rose quickly, slightly frightened and left the room. Thankful the detention had finished early, yet worried about her Professor. Was it usual for Voldemort to summon him during the week when he more than likely had some wrong-doer in detention? Engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't even notice she had subconsciously made her way back to Gryffindor tower. Giving the password, she entered, spotting Harry and Ron almost immediately.

'Your back early,' stated Harry, looking up from his copy of "_Advanced Potion Making_". She was shocked to see he was actually reading a textbook without her nagging, but made nothing of it.

'Yeah, something strange happened,' she said, shaking her head slightly. She told them of the earlier occurrences. They reacted just as she had.

'But, why would he be summoned on a weeknight?' Asked Ron.

'That's exactly what I thought,' she said in an absent voice, lost in her thoughts once again. She didn't really care for Snape, finding his cruel demeanour less than contemptuous to bear, but she found herself deeply concerned for his safety. Realizing this had also been a blessing on her account, she reached for her textbooks, thankful for the extra hours of study. Over the next two hours, she completed her Potions, Defence and Herbology homework with Harry and Ron. Feeling not at all tired, she reached into her book bag to find her weekly planner holding her Ancient Runes homework, but she couldn't find it. She emptied her bag onto the table, but saw it was void of the small black book. She smacked her head as she realized she had dropped it back in the detention in her haste to leave as quickly as possible. Looking around, she saw the room was empty save for her; Harry and Ron had left for bed about half an hour ago.

Knowing she would never sleep unless she got it done, she grabbed her cloak to block the chilly November air and crawled out of the Portrait hole. She was a prefect and therefore given some leeway when it came to curfews, but she did not want to risk running into a teacher and getting herself into another detention.

She managed to avoid everyone when she finally made it back to the dungeons. Thankfully, the large oak door leading into her DADA class was left open and she quietly entered. She quickly spotted the planner on the floor, picked it up and made to walk to the door. A noise, however, made her stop dead in her tracks. It was a sort of an indecent groan coming from Snape's office which joined the classroom. Not wanting to interrupt her Professor on something incredibly private, she tiptoed quickly to the door, making a mental note to apply an especially strong brain-cleansing charm.

Before she could open the door, she heard the groan again, but realized the hint of indecency was instead, pain. Not thinking, she turned and ran towards his office door and threw it open, only to be greeted by a horrible, blood curdling sight.

Snape was lying on his back in front of his desk breathing in shallow, raspy breaths. His black frock coat was saturated in blood from a deep gash extending from his left shoulder to his sternum, the dark red liquid oozing almost serenely from the wound. She ran up to him and kneeled beside him, a tear spilling unwanted from her eye. She wasn't even sure why she was crying.

'S-sir. What happened?' She asked.

'W-W-What…are…you…doing…here,' he managed.

'I left my book and I heard you were in pain,' she said quietly.

'Get…out,' he said in a strangely strained tone. She knew he was trying to sound intimidating, however failed miserably.

'No. I-I'll floo Madam Pomfrey. She'll be able to hea-'

'-No!' He rasped.

'T-The Headmaster?' She questioned.

'No. Leave…me…be. I deserve…this,' he said, his voice becoming weaker by the second.

'I-I can't just do that. Y-you're dying,' She cried. He made no answer. She thought he had just decided to ignore her, hope she would leave, but she noticed his breathing had gone from shallow and pained to almost non existent. She felt his pulse: It was there, but incredibly weak. She knew he had only a few minutes left. Thinking quickly, she raced to the fireplace and yelled "Potions". Stepping into the flames, she arrived in the potions lab, and made for the stores. She stopped dead in her tracks; the potions stores here only had ingredients, and she had no time to brew anything. She raced back to the fireplace and returned to his office. She found him lying in the same position as she had left him. A quick check of his pulse showed he was still alive, but barely. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't just waltz into the Hospital Wing without giving Madam Pomfrey reason as to why she needed the potions to save him. She didn't even know if the Mediwitch knew he was a spy and the whole situation would make it inexcusably obvious.

The only option was to go to the Headmaster's office. Throwing more powder into the fire, she started reciting the Headmaster's password when she heard a soft sound behind her. She turned to face Snape and saw he was trying to say something. Leaning in so close to his face she could smell the whiskey on his short breaths, she heard his whisper "No - _Sanctum daemonis_" before closing his eyes again.

She could make neither head nor tails of this statement and paced the room quickly, thinking hard to herself. The word "_Sanctum_" was awfully close to the word "Sanctuary" and she knew the word "_daemonis_" to be Latin for demon. The only assailable solution was that this was the password to his private quarters, but why would he give her that? _He must have some sort of healing potion down there_, she thought. _Hell, if he was visiting Voldemort this often he would need some_.

Not thinking twice about it, she threw some more floo powder into the fire.

'Severus Snape's quarters, _daemonis_,' she tried, stepping into the flames. A whirl of colour and intense dizziness later, she found herself standing in what she assumed was Snape's quarters. Wasting no time admiring the furnishings, she made for the bathroom and checked the cabinet finding nothing but a few headache brews.

She re-entered the sitting room, scanning the shelves, tables, draws, everything. Again, she found nothing. Taking her chances, she walked through the nearest door, finding a plain bed and a dresser. Trying the next door, she found herself in a potions lab, smaller than the classroom, but filled with more intricate objects she assumed he used in the potion making process. Locating a cupboard marked "Potions", she quickly ran towards it, yanking open the doors. There she found neatly labelled rows of everything from Anti-venom to Veritaserum.

She found the row labelled "Healing potions". She didn't know how strong the stuff was, so she grabbed three bottles and slammed the door shut. She raced back to the fire and was by his side in seconds. She knew he only had precious few moments left so she opened his pale mouth and tipped half of one of the small bottles onto his tongue.

She couldn't see any improvement; actually, she couldn't see anything at all. The cut was hidden predominantly by his clothing. A tap of her wand saw the rip in his shirt expand so his skin was exposed. She cast a quick temperature regulating charm to the room, expelling the cold air from his office.

She returned her gaze to the gash. It was still red and bloody, but no blood was coming from it. She tipped the other half of the potion into his mouth and waited. Slowly but surely, the wound sealed itself up, leaving only a thin red line which she presumed would scar. Still, he wasn't waking up.

One look at his pale grey, clammy skin told her he had lost a lot of blood. She flooed again to his quarters and found some Blood-Replenishing draught. Returning again to his side, she poured half the bottle into his mouth. His skin gained some colour but by no means all. She tipped the rest beyond his lips and was surprised to see him actually swallow it, rather than having it trickle down his throat.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she got up and sat on the chair in front of his desk, studying him. She transfigured a tissue into a blanket and covered him with it, not wanting to leave him alone. She didn't know how long she sat, staring at him until she had fallen asleep on the uncomfortable chair.

'What in Merlin's name are you _doing_ her girl?' Shouted her Professor, some four hours later. Hermione jumped out of her light slumber and blinked, shaking herself back to reality.

'Good morning to you too,' she said, lowering her legs which had been tucked under her body.

'What did you _do_ to me?' He yelled again. She did not answer; he was acting just as she had suspected and was in no mood for it. She got rose to her feet and spotted her bag next to the door. It was still very early, she could scoot up to her dorm and no one would notice.

'Well?' He burst out. She could not be bothered with his rubbish, not now, not when she had done him the service of saving his life. She picked up her bag and grasped the door handle, but was interrupted by him grabbing her shoulder, spinning her around and slamming her back against the door. Her head made a resounding _crack_ and she blinked back the tears of pain now threatening to spill down her cheeks.

'Do _not_ disobey me girl,' he whispered threateningly, leaning in so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath again.

'_I saved your live_,' she whispered with malice to match his own. He glared at her, lips trembling.

'I did not _ask_ for your heap' He said icily. She pushed him away. He was still weak from the events from last night and he nearly fell to the ground.

'Merlin's ass, how bloody pessimistic of you. If you do not want life, perhaps I did you a disservice in returning it to you,' she said. There was this feeling inside her; not so much pity, but she knew she wanted to help him, to save him. His life had obviously taken a terrible turn he was contemplating death as an escape.

'Let me help you,' she said, walking up to him.

'I do not need any help from the likes of _you_.' He spat, turning his back on her. 'Leave, _now_. You will not speak of this to _anyone_,' he warned. She did not move. Instead, she dropped her book bag, choosing her next words carefully.

'Why do you deserve death?' She asked.

'I'm sorry?' He asked, clearly taken aback by the blunt question.

'You told me, last night as I was trying to help you, that you deserved death. Why?' She asked.

'_That_ is none of your business,' he stated.

'Okay then, I'll take a wild guess,' she said, now pacing the room. He did not say anything.

'You have been a spy ever since Voldemort returned to power. You have been feeding both Dumbledore and Voldemort information about the opposite sides' plans, though aligning yourself faithfully to Dumbledore. To me, it sounds as if you deserve anything but death. I suppose you could deserve death if you broke some sort of trust to Dumbledore, but I have every faith you didn't. Perhaps it is something you are being forced to do, something terrible, or maybe you have committed some sort of heinous crime under the orders of the Dark Lord. I could go on for hours you know.' She finished with a slight mischievous glint in her eyes.

'Why would you think that is _any_ of your business? Of course I would not _tell_ you!'

'Why not? You _can_ trust me you know,' she paused. 'Professor, I know the precarious nature of your position, but sometimes it is easier to know someone is there to just _listen_.' She offered.

'_No_,' he said, more forcefully. 'I've already said too much. Anymore and I'll be putting to Order's plans in jeopardy. Do not ask me to trust you - I cannot trust anyone. You must know this…' He trailed off. She understood, but as her Professor turned to look at her, her understanding was shaken. There was a glint of something in his eyes that she could not quite make out, something warmer, something…human. She realized then, after all this time, her childish third year crush on her dreaded Potions Professor had returned. She had this urge to walk up and embrace him, to show she was there for him; to be a comforting shoulder, a listening ear, whatever he wanted in his time of need. She saw his vulnerability, both physical and emotional and it tore her apart for reasons unknown to her.

'Please, just - just go,' he said in a defeated voice. She knew she should leave, but her body decided otherwise. She walked up to him and brushed the hair from in front of his eyes. He made to push her away, but she forced his head to look at her, to look into her eyes. She saw the helplessness, the plea, the total and complete defeat in his eyes and she embraced him, wrapping her arms around his back. He just stood there in shock before he did the same to her. It was an uncharacteristic moment: for him being her black-hearted teacher, and for her being the best friend of his arch enemy. They stood there for what seemed like hours before they finally broke apart. She nodded at him and left the room, content he knew where she stood.

She would be back, and she knew he would make no further objections. Sometimes all that is needed is an extended arm to grasp onto; when you know nothing will ever be the same again. She knew she had made a difference by extending that arm, showing him her friendship, her willingness, her genuine offer of acceptance in a world which would grant him none.

Maybe that was all he needed.

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><p><em>AN_

_Those who know me and my fics know my Author Notes sections are WAY too long. I have warned you._

_I will let you know that _none_ of the three chapters of this fic have any smut. Sorry!_

_Also, I wrote them to coincide with the actual events of the books. You will see this in the next chapter. _

_This is the only HP fic I have submitted, my other two are for Supernatural. I have no plans to submit any more in this genre._

_I'll upload the other two chapters once I've finished having my way with them *winks*._

Comment/Rate/Appreciate!

_-thesolitaryone-_


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2

They had never discussed his under-lying orders from Dumbledore; Snape made it quite clear from the beginning he would not divulge this to her and she accepted that. For the remaining school year, they were each other's rock against the thrashing ocean in a never-ending storm. He would be there when school, friends and expectations overwhelmed her, and she would return the favour when the demands of a double life overwhelmed him in turn. They would extend their ears, arms, and hearts to one another in their secret midnight meetings. Though they were undeniably close, he would always respect the restrictions his position as her teacher proposed and though both resented this, they both cared too deeply for the school and Dumbledore to disobey the rules.

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><p>Harry had been gone for hours and she was beginning to worry uncontrollably. This was the night he was joining Dumbledore in their quest for a horcrux and he would be in extraordinary amounts of danger. She paced up and in front of the fire in Severus' office as he did his work, mumbling to herself and playing with her hands.<p>

'What are you doing?' He asked, looking up from some complicated Arthrimetic equation.

'I-uh, nothing. Just thinking, that's all.' She answered. He did not know of the horcruxes and it was most definitely not her place to enlighten him.

'One would be doing more than thinking while pacing a hole in the carpet. What's worrying you?'

'I can't- I can't tell you,' she managed, still pacing, but now pressing her hands to her head.

'It's Potter, isn't it?' He asked. 'Dumbledore mentioned something about taking him out tonight,' he said, rising to meet her.

'It's just…He's in an astronomical amount of danger and I feel so…'

'Useless?' He offered. She nodded and she stopped pacing.

'He's with Dumbledore; no harm can come to him.' He assured her. She nodded again and embraced him.

'I'm just so scared. He's like my brother and I can't bear to lose him,' she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks onto his robe.

There was an explosion from upstairs and Snape released her as if she suddenly grew white hot.

'What was that?' She asked fearfully, staring at the ceiling.

'No, not now…' he said just as fearfully as her and he raced to the chair behind his desk, taking his seat.

'What? What is it?' She asked, now standing on the other side facing him.

'You have to leave. Go to your friends, you cannot be here,' he said quickly, rummaging around his desk.

'What-'

'I said _go_!' He yelled and she jumped back. He had not used that tone with her for months.

'No! Tell me what's going on!' She yelled back with equal ferocity. She was not remotely afraid of his temper anymore.

'Death Eaters!' He returned, clutching his neck. She looked into his eyes; he was frightened.

'Then get out there! Go help the Order!'

'I can't,' he replied in a small, defeated voice.

'What do you mean! This is the _school_!'

'You don't understand, I _can't_! There is a plan, an intricate plan which has to be followed _exactly_. You must leave _now_!' He yelled back. She stood there in disbelief. Everything she had come to know about him had been forcibly ripped from under her. Tears flowed silently down her cheeks.

'Why are you not fighting?' She asked in a small voice filled with the sadness behind her tears. 'Why are you not defending us?' He did not say anything, words somehow forsaken him. He looked at her for what seemed hours until she gave in.

'Fine, I will go,' she said and walked to the door.

'Wait,' he said urgently. He rose from his desk quickly and walked up to her, grabbing her shoulders painfully. She let out a small cry of pain.

'Listen to me,' he said urgently.

'It's okay, I get it, I'm lea-'

'No!' He barked. 'The plan for tonight…You must- you must not believe everything you hear.' She made to release herself from his painful grip.

'Stop! Not everything is as it seems. You must understand this! I am not supposed to tell you any of this, but I can't-I can't do this without you.'

'Then don't do it!' She replied. 'Whatever it is, don't! If it is causing you this much pain…' There was another explosion from above.

'It is not in my power to refuse! Just remember what I said. Whatever happens tonight, remember I am loyal to Dumbledore; loyal to you.' He said, his voice becoming faster with the continuing urgency.

'Don't forget. Don't lose faith.' He pleaded, struck suddenly by the pain of the situation. He stared into her eyes: black on brown in the flicking candle light. An irresistible urge rose in him as he fell into her eyes; and felt its voltage fling his hold from his calm age and power. In that moment, the last moment they would seemingly share, he gave into the temptations he had been resisting so vehemently for months.

Nothing else mattered at that moment. Dumbledore, Harry, the whole Order be damned if he could spend forever in her arms, never waking from this incessant nightmare. Her lips were soft and chaste, his were calloused in wake of the thousands of lies they expressed.

Returning to reality, they broke apart, resting their foreheads together for a moment. Another thunderous explosion snapped their concentration back. She nodded without saying a word and left the room to meet her friends and the fight three floors above.

She had no idea what had come over him, but, knowing him as she did, she knew not to argue when he was this adamant. Still, it pained her to see him so thoroughly rattled, so lost for what to do or what was expected of him. His cryptic comments shook her and deepened the worry for him and his safety. What was he supposed to do? Why was it so important he stayed in his office while students and teachers were dying? And _why_ was he keeping her in the dark? He had so clearly pronounced his deep affection for her physically, something they had both wanted for months, but why now? What had changed so suddenly?

Shocked that the only plausible reason was he knew they would never see each other again, she spun around, intent on bashing down the door and dragging him to Pago Pago; away from the danger his double life accompanied. However, the minute she reached the door, she was thrown backwards, unable to touch it.

She got to her feet again, tears streaming down her face once again and ran to the door in desperation, knowing full well the outcome but having faith none-the-less. Again she was thrown, more forcible again.

'_Why_! Why must you leave me in the dark?' She screamed, her heart aching; feeling as though someone had ripped it from her and torn it to shreds. 'I stood by you against the beliefs of my closest friend! I disbelieved him when he questioned your loyalty! I returned to you, night after night, listening to you, giving you my shoulder, my heart, my _soul_, only to have it thrown back into my _face_! I hate you! I _hate_ you!'

But screaming wasn't enough. Crying, thrashing, threatening, lying to herself didn't fill the void he had created. She sank to the ground, trembling and undeniably defeated. She knew he was only protecting her from what would lay ahead, but it did not make the situation any easier to bear. Resigned, she dragged her trembling body back to its feet and made her way slowly to her friends. Composing herself as best as she could as she saw two of her friends come running towards her, she joined them in hiding outside Snape's office, waiting for the moment when he would make his move in this battle.

Unbeknown to her, Severus Snape stood, his forehead pressed against the cold wooden door, listening to everything she had said. A tear lay unwiped upon his pale, sallow cheeks as he turned around, now leaning his back against the door, banging his head against it in anger and resentment. He knew she was right, she was always right and tonight he realized just how wrong he was in ever aligning himself with both the hero and villain of this second war.

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><p>She could not believe it. She had always thought he would never do such a thing to the man he had admitted to her he regarded as a father. No matter what he had said to her in warning, nothing, <em>nothing<em> could excuse this atrocity. The killing curse could only be performed if the caster has real desire to take life away, and no matter how convincing a spy he was, no one could fake such desire. She felt dirty, betrayed, broken in every sense of the word. For months she laid her trust upon him, told him everything she could not tell her closest of friends. Knowing it was all a lie hurt her more than anything she had ever experienced. She was beyond crying, beyond rocking back and forth trying to retain a grip on her insanity, beyond praying for the slightest sign that there is hope where darkness falls.

She could not dig deep for the courage to continue living and breathing; she could not remain hopeful that this had all been a misunderstanding; she could not sit there, expecting him to walk through the door and shout "April Fool!"; she could not forgive him for betraying her trust. However, in spite of all this, in spite of what he had done and the trust he had lost, she could not hate him. Her courage didn't come;

It doesn't matter.

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><p><em>AN_

_Part 2 people! Cheers for reading!_

_Like I said before, this story was written to coincide alongside JKR's epic tale, not in spite of it. But in any case, though there isn't the slightest likelihood that this storyline could have existed, I still like to dream... lol._

_Enjoy! The final part up soon!_

_xx_

_-thesolitaryone-_


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3

She had spent months with Harry and Ron searching for the Horcruxes to free the world of Voldemort's ambidextrous grasp. When, finally they had discovered the final piece, they returned once again to Hogwarts to fight for the school, the world, they had come to call home.

Through the months of searching and seemingly infinite disappointments, she had dwelled on what was, is, and what never could be until she finally found it within herself to forget everything; not forgive, for she would never forgive him for such an atrocious crime. The months became easier to bear as she suppressed all the memories, both the enjoyable and the not-so-much. She had finally come to terms with her past and moved on to service the greater good; to service Harry. However, some things, memories, wounds run far too deep for healing. She would _never_ forget him.

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><p>Her body stiffened with resounding disbelief. Her rock had been suddenly uprooted and swept upstream with the tides of the fierce water. Never in her life had she seen such an act of cowardice and it was in that moment, that split second that everything came flooding back. He was dead; there was no denying it.<p>

Her mind screamed at her in protest as she handed Harry that small flask, somehow confirming the situation, making it real. For that moment, she didn't care what he had done; she just wanted to lay there with him, allowing herself to draw in his death. Yet despite this, not a single tear fell down her blood-stained cheek. Her courage in the face of adversity, perhaps, couldn't come at a worse time. A hand on her shoulder told her to put her grief aside and she allowed herself to be steered by Ron out of the run-down house. They had a job to do.

She had been able to put her emotions on hold as they fought in the victorious battle. She had fought gallantly alongside her classmates and professorial acquaintances, never once allowing herself to feel anything other than the moment. She would never be able to protect her friends had she allowed herself to succumb to the emotions so close to the surface. Whatever she felt would have to wait; she owed her Harry that much.

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><p>Several hours later, she had managed to pull herself away from the celebratory party and visit the one place she truly felt happiest in the castle. She closed the door to Severus's office behind her and leaned against it, pressing her knuckles hard against the solid wood. This was the first time she had ever set foot in his office alone and would undoubtedly be the last. She needed closure, and here was the only place she could find it.<p>

Harry had told her everything. It took all the determination she possessed not to cry out in shock and pain when she heard. She did what was required of her; she listened to every detail, nodding concernedly, trying to ignore the screaming agony licking her bones as she fought it all back. The guilt was overwhelming. She had believed he had killed out of spite and hatred for the man lying weakened before him. She believed it was a cowardly crime to attack an unarmed opponent; now she realized he was perhaps the bravest man in this war. Of all the things she was forced to come to terms with as a result of the past year, this was by far the worst. He died thinking she had abandoned him, and nothing could ever change that.

Crossing to his desk, she remembered the first time she had ever made him laugh. The sheer memory brought a sparkling tear to her eye.

_She was examining the books lining the walls of his living room as he worked continually on some experiment on the couch. She knew not to disturb him while he was working unless it was something important, so she resorted to scanning his book collection, amazed at the variety he possessed. There was everything from Arthrimacy to Potions to ordinary Muggle fiction. She was startled to find at the very right hand corner of the bottom shelf, a Muggle romance paperback. Her cry of surprise apparently didn't go unnoticed._

'_Something amuses you?' He asked. She lifted the book from the shelf and held it up, her eyebrow raised. _

'_Never thought you were one for purple prose,' she smirked, taking the book and resting on the lounge._

'_I do not discriminate between genres, though I'd admit you need to be in a certain mood to enjoy such a thinly veiled excuse for pornography,' he admitted dryly. Nothing could stem the floods of laughter now streaming from her._

'_Oh god.' She exclaimed, wiping the tears from her eyes. 'Imagine what would happen if this got out: Severus Snape reading romance!' The livid look he gave her set her off again._

'_If I so much hear a whisper of this, I'll personally see to it that you get nothing above a 'D' for your Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT.' He warned, casting her a very serious look. She shut up immediately, looking petrified. Now it was his turn to lose it laughing. She did not find it in any way amusing, but resorted to use whatever means possible to entice him to laugh again. He of all people needed to._

She would never hear his laughter again. She would never sit with him on that couch, resting her head upon his lap, telling him how her day had been. She would never feel his hand running through her hair as she spoke; she would never look up into his dark, shadowed eyes as he studied her honestly. She would never tell him how she truly felt.

Though she had believed his treachery to be absolute, she never stopped loving him. Night after night she would cry herself to sleep in that lonely tent with Harry and Ron, longing for the innocence she would never regain. The tides had changed, and she would never feel the same for anyone as she did to him. They never showed their affection physically aside from that final, fateful night almost a year ago, but their emotional bond was strong as if they had. She would never give herself to him as they had nonverbally planned. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter so much anymore.

She forgave him for everything as soon as she heard the words from Harry's lips. But, now learning of his death, she would never know if he had forgiven her for losing faith. She couldn't bare the thought that he would never know; she could never tell him.

She sat in his office chair and studied the desk. He had never allowed her to search through it and she never wanted to; he always kept the marked and unmarked essays in the desk drawers, but she had the undeniable urge to open them to see what had been left behind. Unsurprisingly, she saw everything had been emptied: McGonagall probably wanted so be sure any remaining threat to the school was removed a year ago and she doubted anyone had returned as Snape took his place at the Headmaster's office.

However, opening the third drawer, she noticed the air trapped inside had a sort of tingle to it. Suspecting a concealment charm, she tried all the counter spells but the charm could not be removed. Reaching her hand to the bottom of the deep drawer, she was surprised to see the tingle vanish and instead, lay a single piece of parchment reading his writing.

She broke down. Everything, every little emotion she had been withholding for hours suddenly burst from within her as she read the woven words of his letter. Within minutes, her face and collar were drenched in endless tears as the words flowed through her. The sadness, the grief, was unbearable and her vision became blurred with the stream of salty tears. Her lament would not cease even after she had read the last word of the letter. She choked, spluttered, wept all over the parchment until the words ran with ink.

She fell off the chair to the ground and crawled to the corner, hitching her legs to her chest, each breath causing her undying pain. She did not want to live with this grief; she did not want to go on another day without his solid presence. Though they had been apart for months, a small part of her always took comfort in the fact that he was still there; that despite all that had happened he still loved her. Now, she had no one and though she knew one day she would be able to forgive herself, she did not want anyone else.

She somehow managed to rise to her feet and find the floo powder. Within seconds she found herself in Severus's quarters again, stumbling through the door she knew his bed was behind. Still holding the parchment in her shaking hands, she collapsed onto the bed. She could still smell him on the linen, indicating he still used these quarters even as he ran the school. Hugging a pillow close to her chest, she somehow managed to quieten her mind and drift off to sleep, silent tears falling down her cheeks onto her pillow.

* * *

><p>Hermione walked to the edge of the cliff, the well read parchment in her hands. A slight wind urged her to open it, to read it one more time.<p>

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_I know if you are reading this, my plan was successful and my life was taken as a result. I only pray you can find it in your heart and soul to forgive me for all I have done, and for what I was never able to do. You showed me love, and kindness, despite all reason telling you otherwise. I would never have succeeded if not for the love and support you offered me against many of your own beliefs. _

_There were so many times I pushed you away, lying, withholding truths. Please know I only did this to protect you from my world, my nightmare. The path I was walking led only to a darkness not even your light could shield you from. But you still let me in, came to my door, and listened. Never underestimate how beautiful you are, in every sense of the word. I only hope that one day you can find someone who is truly worthy of everything you are. _

_True love begins when nothing is looked for in return. You saved me, Hermione, in every possible way, and for that you will forever have my grace. Only now, in the face of dire adversity, have I come to realize the years I have wasted never allowing you into my life. There are so many things I still wish to say, to do, but above all, I want you to know that I will _always_ love you._

_A year ago you offered me your hand, and I now I offer you my soul. I only hope you are able to forgive me._

_Do not lose hope, do not lose faith._

_All my love. _

_S. _

The letter did not belong to her anymore. A whisper of wind encouraged her to extend her arm over the Cliffside and drop the letter her love had poured his soul onto. She forced herself to watch as the parchment drifted lovingly into the caress of the breeze, falling gently into the depths of the forest. The wind was gentle, comforting, embracing her lovingly as she gazed over the cliff side at the rugged landscape below.

Why is it, that in life, people only remember the hurricanes? The tornadoes? The maniacal gales and violent storms? The death of Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore? Such reverence is laid before those who leave only destruction, leaving those who sacrifice everything to flutter silently behind the veil. Does our blood not run the same colour, or our hearts not beat the same rhythm? We have not the right to judge their importance as greater, when we are all destined to meet the same fate.

She would never forget; never let his story fade away; never let him become yesterday's yellowed newspaper, reading yesterdays news, floating in a gust of yesterday's wind….

Because, in the end, who remembers the wind?

* * *

><p><em>AN_

_Finished! This was the final part. The story was written to finish, as I ended it without need for continuation (so sequels or prequels or anything in between is OUT). I pretty much only posted it now because I stumbled across it in one of my old files._

_To those who have read, I hope you enjoyed it! I have more HP fanfiction somewhere on my computer, and I'll get around to posting it eventually once I clean it up. My 15-17 year old self was idealistic, but sucked at editing (and, for that matter, constructing storylines that made sense). This was one of the rare few which was salvageable._

_Anyway. Cheers to everyone who spent the time reading. Love you forever!_

_x_

_-thesolitaryone-_


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